


Bakery Bliss

by Traviosita9124



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, FitzSimmons Network Secrete Santa 2017, Fluff, Oral Sex, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 04:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13182720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons have never gotten on, not since they were in the same culinary school cohort. Years later they'll need to set their differences aside to make sure they both find success - and maybe love - in the long run.





	Bakery Bliss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ughfitz (wokemeup)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wokemeup/gifts).



> My fluffy bakery/cooking au for ughfitz for the 2017 FitzSimmons Network Secret Santa. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Jemma leaned over the gleaming stainless-steel surface, staring at the shopping list before her, the clock on the wall quietly ticking away. Depending on the perspective if was either very early or very late; either way, it was the only time her kitchen was quiet and she was afforded a moment to focus on the more administrative matters that came with running her restaurant. She slowly tapped her pen against the paper in front of her, carefully turning things over in her mind, ruling some out while selecting others to consider more seriously.

There were dozens of seasonal ingredients she wanted to work into the menu this month but wasn’t sure her usual grocer would be able to deliver to her. Could she afford to find a secondary source? She hated to put anything substandard on a table in her restaurant, but she also knew that there’d be an uproar if she over extended her credit yet again. Jemma sighed, reaching to pour herself a glass of wine in the hopes that it would make her task easier when her hand slipped, upsetting the bottle. The sight of it spilling across the counter startled her, causing her to jump and give a little shriek, which drew the attention of Daisy and Bobbi.

“Gah!” she screamed into the still kitchen, relishing the way her shout echoed off the stainless steel and tile. “How  _ fucking  _ clumsy can I be?!”

Jemma slammed an open palm down on the counter, giving in to her frustration briefly before moving to clean up the spill. It left her palm stinging and a shudder ran up her arm even as she worked, but at least she felt more centered now.

“Nice work there, boss.”

She jerked her head up toward the voice, smiling when she saw Daisy leaning against her now-pristine station. The other woman had been so quiet while working - a true rarity for her - that Jemma had nearly forgotten she was there.

“Work,” Jemma snorted in response. “I wish things were working. As it is I can barely manage to put together a menu. It used to be so  _ easy  _ and now-”

Before she could finish her thought, Jemma was distracted when the swinging doors leading to the restaurant proper opened, revealing Bobbi who was holding a large, fresh bottle of rather expensive whisky. Jemma’s eyes went wide when she saw it, her head automatically shaking.

“Bobbi, please tell me that isn’t from our bar.”

“Of course not,” the blonde answered with a smirk, drawing closer and bringing Daisy with her. She shifted the wine-soaked rag to the far end of the counter and set three tumblers down in front of Jemma, carefully pouring each of the women two fingers, neat. “This is courtesy of that guy I’ve been seeing. You know, the barista?”

Jemma raised her eyebrows, clearly dubious, and picked up her glass. She gave the whisky a sniff, appreciating the aroma of it before taking a healthy sip.

“That’s good stuff. How the hell did he afford it on a barista’s salary?”

“No idea.” Bobbi shrugged. “To be honest, I’ve learned to just stop asking questions where he’s concerned. He shows up when he says he will and we have a good time. That’s all I really need.”

Daisy snorted into her drink at Bobbi’s “good time” comment but managed to keep enough of a handle on herself to not spill. The other two just rolled their eyes at her. Being used to Daisy’s more juvenile behavior, they ignored it in favor of continuing the conversation.

“Anyway,” Bobbi moved on, nudging Daisy lightly so the other woman would move the open wine and discarded glass further out of their way, “we all know something around here has to change. We need a spark, Jems. Something - or someone - new.”

Daisy nodded, although she was suspiciously silent. Jemma suddenly had the feeling she’d been set up. They’d been hatching this for who knew how long, despite her trying to keep the behind the scenes struggles away from most of the staff. That rankled a bit, but she also knew that Daisy and Bobbi were two of the only people who truly cared about her. Not her name or her connections, but her. Taking a deep breath, she nodded, indicating that Bobbi should continue, only to have Daisy speak up instead.

“Finish that,” she commanded, nodding to Jemma’s half-full tumbler. “Trust me, you’ll need it.”

Nerves - or perhaps it was just the whisky in her empty belly - sent a hot thrill through her, leading Jemma to hesitate for just a moment before throwing back the rest of her drink. Bobbi had the bottle at the ready and Jemma slammed the empty glass in front of her, nodding for her friend to pour another drink before going on with the rest of her plan.

~*~

“What the hell happened in here?”

Leo Fitz jerked upright when he heard Hunter’s voice, sending a large puff of flour into the air around him and triggering a coughing fit. His kitchen was an absolute mess, a fact that would shock approximately no one who knew him. Despite the best intentions of his culinary school instructors and the chefs he’d worked under, Fitz was still prone to piling up dishes in the sink, leaving counters scattered with bits of baking detritus, and accidentally streaking flour through his hair. Today’s batch left him looking positively ancient, but Hunter knew better than to say anything.

“The experiment isn’t going well then I take it?”

Fitz only shook his head and sighed, his fingers nervously tapping through the drifts of white on the butcher block countertop.

“Not at all. The soufflé-tart is dead.”

“Well, mate,” Hunter answered, picking up a freshly baked blueberry scone and biting into it without any acknowledgement of Fitz’ misery, “you have to admit that putting something heavy into a dessert that’s meant to rise probably wasn’t the best of plans. Kind of doomed from the start, yeah?”

Fitz rolled his eyes and scoffed before turning to make an attempt at cleaning the kitchen. Hunter was right and it drove him batty. But he was feeling stagnant and the itch to innovate was driving him to try new things, each more improbable than the last.

“I know, Hunter, it’s just…” Fitz sighed again. “I can’t keep bakin’ the same old things. I need something new. Something  _ exciting _ .”

They had a solid core of regulars, but Fitz needed more foot traffic in his store if he ever wanted to save up enough to buy the space next door and expand. As it was, he was just making enough to break even, which meant he’d have to come up with something no one had seen or tried before, something that would pull in people from far-flung neighborhoods to try his bakery. At the moment, he’d be lucky just to compete with the chain that had broken ground two blocks away and would be opening its doors in a few months. He needed an edge, and he needed it  _ now _ .

Fitz was mulling his situation over as he cleaned, straightening the counters so he could begin the next round of bakes, when Hunter broke into his thoughts again.

“I may have something, mate.” His friend looked a little sheepish, as though he were expecting Fitz to shoot him down from the start. “You know that bird I’ve been seeing? The bartender?” Fitz nodded. “Well, she works for the restaurant next door-”

“Hunter,  _ no _ ,” Fitz cut in, not liking where this was going.

“- and she says the chef is looking for something new. Something to reignite her own spark.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Fitz knew exactly what Hunter was suggesting and he didn’t like it one bit. He’d gone to culinary school with Jemma Simmons. She’d hated him for as long as they’d known the other existed and he’d had the poor luck to open his bakery on the same block she’d selected for her pub. Thankfully they weren’t direct competitors, or Fitz was certain she’d have made it her life’s mission to crush him.

He had hoped they might be friendly when they’d first met. They’d been the only two Brits in their cohort at the culinary school and Fitz had thought that might have been enough to give him an in, but he’d been terribly mistaken. No, instead of working together as fellow expats, Jemma had made it her mission to best him in every task possible and she hadn’t taken it well when Fitz had always come out ahead during the patisserie units of their program. It was that bad feeling that left him hesitant to ever work with Jemma.

Not his massive, unrequited crush on her that he somehow hadn’t managed to shake even after all these years.

“I dunno, Hunter.” Fitz slapped the rag he’d been using against the counter. “Where’s the benefit for me? For us?”

“Listen, mate, I get it. She’s crazy,” Hunter wound his finger up near his temple for emphasis, “but she’s the kind of crazy that comes with money. Do you want to buy the storefront next door or not?”

Fitz nodded, nibbling on his bottom lip.

“Then this could be perfect. She’ll owe you a cut of the profits if you’re helping. Right now, we’re only just breaking even and that space will be gone by the time you can afford it. With extra cash coming in, you can own it sooner.”

He turned the idea over in his mind, considering what Hunter had said. Fitz had been dying to expand forever, but hadn’t found the means to do so. Maybe his friend was right; this was the perfect opportunity and he’d be an idiot to let it pass by.

“All right,” Fitz finally answered, nodding. “Set up the meeting. Let’s at least see what she says.”

~*~

Jemma stared across the Formica table top at the man across from her, fighting the urge to narrow her eyes.

She hadn’t been in the same room as Leo Fitz in ages, not since they’d completed their culinary program five years ago. There was a certain bitter sweetness to seeing him up close. When she’d first realized there was another Brit in her cohort she’d been excited and hopeful that they’d be able to work together and maybe bring a bit of home into their lab kitchens; however, once it had become clear that all Fitz was interested in was competing with her, Jemma had been forced to give up that dream.

She’d changed tactics then, deciding that if he wanted to compete she’d give him a run for his money and she did just that. With every unit and each assignment, Jemma set out to best Fitz and for the most part she had, although it still stuck in her craw that he had outshone her in some arenas. Still, she’d graduated with plenty of accolades and job offers and had been able to open her own place. She was  _ accomplished _ .

Yet she still felt her traitorous heart flutter when she looked at Fitz across the table, causing another flare of annoyance in her chest. It had been easy enough to control it when she only happened to see him in the neighborhood, but having to sit across from him was an entirely different story. Feeling ill at ease, Jemma crossed her arms over her chest, leaned back against the booth, and arched her brow.

“Well?”

Fitz did allow his eyes to narrow as he scoffed. Typical Jemma Simmons, agrees to a meeting and then gets on her high horse about it. He leaned toward her, unwilling to back down for anything.

“You called  _ us  _ here, remember? If anyone should be askin’ that, it’s me.” He glanced over at Hunter, who he caught sharing what looked like a significant look with the tall blonde sitting next to Jemma. He allowed himself a moment to wonder just how Hunter had managed to pull off getting several dates with a girl like Bobbi before nudging the other man with his elbow. “That is what y’ said, right?”

“Well, not exactly,” Bobbi cut in. Jemma could tell she was using her most level tone, the one she pulled out whenever she suspected Jemma was at the breaking point in the kitchen. “Hunter and I were talking-”

“Why in the world would you be talking about our restaurant on a date?”

“It’s none o’ her bloody business-”

“- and work  _ happened  _ to come up.” Bobbi had raised her voice slightly, but that had been all that was needed to get everyone to fall back in line. “We think you two could help each other.”

There was a prolonged beat of silence with both of them just staring at each other over the table. There was no way in hell Fitz was going to break first and admit he needed help. The bakery was just fine as was, really. If he could make a few small tweaks he could start pulling in the money he needed to buy his second space and expand; he didn’t need Jemma Simmons. Not now, not ever.

Unbeknownst to Fitz, Jemma was thinking the same thing across the table. She had worked hard for her restaurant, saving what she could as she toiled in other people’s kitchens before she could afford to own her own place. It was  _ hers  _ and she wasn’t going to let anyone come in and take credit, particularly not her culinary school rival.

The silence dragged on until both Bobbi and Hunter were shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Bobbi finally broke first, rolling her eyes and sighing at the pair of them.

“This is ridiculous,” she stated flatly. “Jemma, I love you, but the place hasn’t been the same since you tried to take on being both head chef and pastry chef. You need a pastry chef, if not for your sanity, than mine. And Fitz.” She turned her gaze to him, causing the smile that had sprung up at seeing Jemma told off to slip away. “All Hunter ever talks about is how you guys want to expand. Sure, you could do it on your own, but why not speed up the process?”

A million different reasons flitted through Fitz’ mind, chief among them being that he didn’t want to work with Jemma Simmons. He’d seen what she’d been like when they were younger and had no hopes that she’d changed as an adult. He was just getting ready to open his mouth to say no, he’d go it alone, when Hunter spoke up.

“C’mon, mate, what’s the harm? So, you work together for a little bit, get back on even footing or even ahead, and then go your separate ways none the worse for wear. Everyone wins.”

Fitz looked over at Simmons, considering. He  _ did  _ want to expand, and there was a bit of vindictive pleasure in knowing it would come from helping a woman who would never willingly admit to needing his help on her own. A voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like his mother chided him for even thinking that way, but it wasn’t as though he was wishing her ill. He was going to help her, after all, and help himself in the process.

“All right. I’m in. But I want my cut in writin’, and that this is an interim thing only. And that y’ don’t have any claim t’ my bakery.”

“As if I would  _ want  _ your bakery,” Jemma shot back before she caught Bobbi’s warning look. “Aside from shared profits generated, we each leave as we came in. I keep my restaurant, you get your bakery, and we split the profits that we earn together down the middle. 50/50.”

Fitz held her gaze as he thought about if he really wanted to do this. He was getting into business with Jemma Simmons of all people. What was the world coming to? Still, it was too good to pass up, so after a moment he found himself extending his hand toward her across the table.

“All right, Simmons, y’ have a deal.”

~*~

Despite their informal handshake they went through another week of negotiations that left Jemma nearly out of her mind. She would never understand why people would drag their feet when there was work to be done, but Fitz apparently didn’t agree. First there was the matter of the contract language and the money they would each get, then something about how publicity would be handled. Jemma supposed she couldn’t hold that against Fitz as it had been her lawyer’s doing - he wanted her front and center of every article - but it still rankled.

The final sticking point that had nearly undone their fledgling partnership came when Fitz put up a fuss about working out of her kitchen. She had been ready to throw up her hands and just quit then and there when Bobbi had thankfully intervened. The blonde had convinced Fitz that they should work out of Jemma’s pub since both the kitchen and dining room were larger, leaving plenty of room for both of them - and more opportunity for profits. She had celebrated the victory initially, feeling pleased that Fitz would have to come into her domain to work, until it had to be put into practice.

Once they’d started, Jemma remembered that part of what had driven her batty during culinary school had been the way he’d kept his station. Typically, she would have said that what another chef did in their space was their business, but they’d been assigned adjacent stations which meant she’d had to deal with his flour flying everywhere and other various bits of debris. 

His kitchen habits hadn’t changed much in the past five years only now it was in  _ her  _ kitchen and it made Jemma positively furious. Adding insult to injury she got no support from her own staff. Daisy merely insisted on teasing her about an imaginary crush she thought Jemma had while Bobbi rolled her eyes and walked away. Couldn’t they see she was under siege? Fitz was  _ always  _ in the kitchen, no matter how early she came in or late she left and when she tried to called him out on it, he would quip back, “Baker’s hours, baby girl. Gotta be up early t’ get a good rise.”

The only thing helping her maintain any kind of sanity was the fact that since bringing Fitz in there had been an uptick in profits; customers seemed happy and the local papers were happy to talk up their partnership which in turn drove in new customers. Jemma had resigned herself to tolerating him then. At least their gamble was paying off and as soon as they each had what they wanted from the other, they could go back to their respective corners.

And if in the meantime Jemma took advantage of the opportunity to admire the way Fitz’ forearms flexed as he kneaded his various doughs or his boyish grin when he knew a bake was going to come out perfectly, well that was her business and no one else’s.

~*~ 

So far working with Simmons hadn’t been as bad as Fitz had feared, although it wasn’t a walk in the park, either. She insisted on hovering near his station as she “thought aloud” about how much easier it was to work in a clean kitchen than a dirty one. He wasn’t oblivious and knew damn well she was irked by his less than pristine workspace. It wasn’t the most mature response but Fitz took a certain pleasure in making sure he was always there working, sending up clouds of flour as he worked on the buns, rolls, and desserts for the evening menu with a smartarse remark to go along with it.  

To his credit, he wasn’t  _ just  _ making a mess for the sake of it. The mess he made was necessary to contribute to their shared success, or so he told himself. If nothing else it was the only chance Fitz got to exercise his frustration with Simmons’ constant griping at him, the chaos he created during a bake giving him a slight respite from the nitpicking. “Slight” being the key word - more often than not his Scottish temper got the better of him and he and Simmons ended up going a few rounds and sending the kitchen into disarray briefly before settling back into their work for the rest of the day.

Today’s spat had centered on the fact that Simmons couldn’t seem to understand that flour had a tendency to settle all over a kitchen and no, Fitz wasn’t able to keep it entirely off her workstation. He’d tried to explain that to her but she’d only gotten louder, much to his chagrin, so he’d given her the same treatment until she’d finally thrown her hands up in frustration and stalked out, presumably to find her cronies to vent to about him. Fitz watched her go, grumbling a bit at her back before he went back to kneading the baguette dough in front of him.

“So, that’s what foreplay looks like in your world?”

Fitz’ head whipped up and he glared at Hunter, disliking his friend’s implication even as it sent a hot flush through him. Of course he knew Simmons was attractive - he’d have to be blind to not know that - but it was only in an objective way really, he reasoned with himself. It wasn’t as though he still fancied her or anything of that sort. Not at all, when she was such an impossible, infuriating woman to work with.

“Don’t know what you’re on about,” he muttered in Hunter’s direction as he scraped the dough off the board in front of him. “Jemma Simmons is the last woman I’d ever think o’ like  _ that _ .”

That pulled an outright laugh from Hunter, earning him another dirty look and a rude, flour-coated hand gesture from Fitz.

“Mate, you’re  _ lying _ . Either to yourself or to me or maybe the both of us, but you’re  _ lying _ .” Hunter waited a beat, clearly wanting to see if Fitz would speak up for himself, but plowed on when the baker only transferred his dough into the pre-oiled containers he had waiting. “Seriously, Fitz. In all the time I’ve known you, she’s the only woman you’ve ever talked about more than in passing.”

“That’s because I’m complainin’-”

“My point is that she stays on your mind.” Hunter planted his hands on the counter and stared him down. “Before we’d talk about the bakery, your mum, and whatever match was on that day. Now we talk about Simmons.”

“Now hold on!” Fitz planted his hands on his hips, too wound up to worry about any stains his clothing might pick up. “My entire focus has been on the bakery - it’s the only reason I’m here!”

“And every time we try to talk about the bakery, Simmons comes up. I haven’t heard you mention your mum in weeks. Have you even spoken to her lately?”

Fitz felt his cheeks go warm as Hunter watched him, getting the uneasy feeling that his friend was right whether Fitz wanted to admit it or not.

“That’s what I thought. Look, Fitz, it’s no big deal that you like the bird, but maybe ease off the fighting, yeah? It isn’t good for either of you, mate.”

With that he exited the kitchen, presumably to head back to the bakery in question. Fitz had a million other retorts he wanted to fire back at Hunter, not least of which was that he was one to talk about not using arguing as foreplay but the other man was gone before he could get his tongue working properly. Sighing, Fitz set about cleaning his station, all the while going back and forth about whether what Hunter had said had any merit.

~*~

“You are the most impossible person I have ever been asked to work with, and that’s saying something!”

Jemma slammed the pot she was holding down on the stainless-steel worktop, relishing the loud crash that resulted. She was dimly aware that they had drawn the attention of the kitchen staff but couldn’t bring herself to be bothered at the moment. She was at her wit’s end, thoroughly fed up with Leopold James Fitz and more than ready to give him a piece of her mind.

“Oh,  _ I'm _ difficult t’ work with?  _ I'm _ the difficult one?! That's bloody rich comin’ from a type-A, inflexible control freak who can’t stand t’ have anythin’ out o’ place! How anyone’s ever managed t’ keep y’ in their kitchen, I’ll never know! There’s no room for creativity or any joy in food! No wonder your pretentious ‘ _ gastro pub _ ’ needed help. It’s got no heart!”

Fitz slapped the tea towel he’d had in his hand down on the counter and glared at Simmons, daring her to say anything in response. If he’d been able to see himself, he might have found the sight ridiculous, what with his chest heaving and nostrils flaring in anger, but as it was he simply felt relief. He’d finally be able to tell Jemma Anne Simmons what he thought of her and be done with the entire thing once and for all.

Jemma felt anger flare through her, warming her to her core and fizzing just under her skin as she took several steps toward Fitz, stopping only when they were practically nose to nose. She glared at him, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“I’d rather be a type-A control freak,” she countered, practically growling at him, “than some scatterbrained baker that can barely keep his shop up and running!”

“I’ve got news for y’,  _ sweetheart _ , I was doin’ just fine without y’! In fact, I remember  _ your  _ bartender comin’ t’  _ my  _ assistant and suggestin’ we work together. Doesn’t sound like y’ were doin’ so fine on your own then, does it?”

Jemma paused for a long moment, skin jumping with pent up frustration as she stared Fitz down. The smug bastard thought he was right, that she needed him to be successful. If he thought that, he had another thing coming! She opened her mouth to tell him just that, when he - infuriatingly - beat her to the punch.

“I won’t be one t’ tell a lady she’s wrong,” Fitz spat out in a tone that clearly indicated he thought Jemma was anything other than a lady. “If that’s how y’ see it, fine. I quit. Have fun figurin’ out tomorrow’s bread and pastry menu without me.”

With that he spun on his heel and stormed out the kitchen door, intent on escaping down the alley and into his own bakery. While Fitz hated the fact that it was deserted at the moment, at least that meant he’d get a modicum of peace while he dealt with the fall out of his latest row with Simmons, something he badly needed.

Jemma stood in the middle of the kitchen, momentarily stunned. Had he really said that? To  _ her _ ? She looked around, catching Daisy’s eye briefly before the other woman turned and went back to work, clearly wanting to be left out of the entire thing. Looking around, she saw most of her kitchen staff had the same air of trying to look busy without making eye contact with her and Jemma began to feel rage creep just beneath her skin.

If Leo Fitz thought he could speak to her that way in front of her staff, he had another thing coming.

With a small grunt, she whirled around as she tugged off her apron, throwing it onto a counter without much regard for who would clean it. All she could focus on now was chasing Fitz and she plunged into the alley after him just in time to see the back door to his own shop close. Jemma was right behind him, darting through the still unlocked door not a moment later.

“Of all the unprofessional things I’ve ever witnessed in my life-”

Fitz whirled as soon as he heard the door open, anger bubbling just beneath the surface and ready to boil over. She had followed him. Simmons had actually followed him out of her kitchen and into his. Was nothing sacred?

“Oh, bloody  _ hell _ , can y’ not just leave a man alone?!”

Full of righteous indignation, Jemma strode right up to him, going nose to nose and all but jabbing her finger in his chest. A tiny part of her was irritated that even now she couldn’t ignore the things about him she found attractive, from the way his t-shirt pulled over his shoulders to the stubble on his jaw or the way his blue eyes flashed, but she pushed that down. She was here to keep him working, not admire his physique.

“You walked out! We have a contract,  _ Leopold _ , and that means you can’t just up and quit!”

Fitz practically growled at the use of his given name, unsure if he was more irritated by it or the fact that she’d used it knowing he hated it. He lowered his face to hers, taking a guilty sort of pleasure in seeing her eyes go wide when she realized just how close they were, even as his own traitorous heart began to beat double time. Fitz’ eyes slipped to Simmons’ mouth, his mind wondering if they were as soft as they looked and if she would taste as good as he suspected, before he forced them back to her eyes.

“I just did and there’s nothin’ y’ can do about it.”

Jemma wasn’t blind or stupid. She saw the way his eyes caught on her lower lip, noted the way his tongue had darted out to wet his own. She’d even caught the slight jumping at his pulsepoint that told her just what she could do about their little predicament, and since it was something that would allow her to scratch the itch that had been driving her batty the past month, she gladly took it.

In one quick movement, Jemma fisted her hands into Fitz’ shirt as she pushed up onto her toes, bringing their mouths crashing together. She felt his breathing hitch and for one, panicky moment thought she’d misread the situation and Fitz would pull away, ending it all. Instead he brought his arms around her waist, hauling her against him as he deepened their kiss.

While he had his moments, Fitz did not consider himself stupid, not one bit, and he knew that when a beautiful woman you’d been pining after quite literally  _ threw  _ herself at you, the only acceptable thing to do was kiss her. So he did, pressing his lips against Jemma’s with an abandon he hadn’t felt in ages, right there in the middle of his kitchen. Realizing they could be walked in on at any moment - Hunter wasn’t shy about using his key after all - Fitz began walking her back toward his office, nipping none too gently at her lower lip as he did so and relishing in the low moan it drew from her.

The feeling of her back hitting his office door was jarring but not so much so that Jemma could bring herself to quit kissing him. If anything, she redoubled her efforts, letting her tongue slip into his mouth to tease against his, using the thrill of the contact to egg him on and hurry up with opening the damn door. Jemma felt as though she were hovering just on the edge of being driven mad with want and all she wanted was for them to be somewhere private where they could resolve their spat to their mutual satisfaction.

They tripped across the threshold once Fitz got the door open, each of them working to support the other so they wouldn’t fall flat on their faces and ruin the moment. As soon as he got the door shut behind them they both began stripping each other, fingers flying over buttons and zippers as clothing fell to the floor around them. Even distracted as she was by the sight of a shirtless Fitz, Jemma couldn’t help but marvel at how well they managed to work together without speaking and she felt a wistful little sting at the thought that if they’d only discovered this ability earlier, their working relationship would have been much different.

On the other hand, had that been the case she might have never had the chance to experience this side of him. Once they were both down to their underwear - Jemma was thankful that the set she’d put on that morning was at least cute, if not outright fancy - they froze, simply watching each other. The office was dark with the only light coming from what filtered in through the partially open blinds on the windows that overlooked the silent kitchen, leaving her uncertain if Fitz’ eyes had truly darkened to that intense, hot shade of blue as they raked over her or if it was just a trick of the light.

He swallowed heavily, eyes glued to Simmons and all the pale, perfect skin that had been revealed to him. For a long moment Fitz, couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch her first, if he should kiss his way down her neck or run his hands over her curves, frozen by the reality of what was happening. She was quite literally a fantasy of his brought to life and he needed the time to burn the moment onto his brain.

Fitz must have waited too long though because he saw a sliver of doubt creep into Simmons’ warm hazel eyes, her eyes darting down and away for just a moment as her mouth opened. Spurred on by the need to keep her with him just a while longer, he stepped into her personal space once more, bringing his hands up to cup around her jaw as he murmured, “You’re bloody gorgeous.”

There was so much more he wanted to say to her but held his tongue. Just because he had a long-standing crush on her didn’t mean she felt the same way and he wasn’t going to screw this up by telling her about it as they stood nearly naked in his office.

So he kissed her instead, angling his head so he could fit his mouth over hers more easily. There was a moment where Simmons went stiff and he feared she would push him off her having changed her mind, but the tension he felt in her melted away a moment later. As soon as it had, he felt her nip at his bottom lip, demanding entrance he readily gave to her. They moaned in unison as their tongues brushed against each other, the sensation sending sparks firing down Fitz’ spine.

He could feel the heat of her body through the thin material of his boxers and his cock twitched in response, nudging against her belly as he went hard. His fingers found the clasp of her bra between her shoulder blades and Fitz toyed with it briefly, murmuring, “May I?” as he did so. Jemma didn’t answer him directly, opting to nod instead as her own mouth found his neck, drawing a low, desperate moan from him as she began to suckle at his pulse point.

Fitz moved quickly to divest her of the rest of her clothing then, peeling Simmons’ bra away from her chest and letting it fall to the floor. Her breasts were fantastic, two perfect handfuls that were just begging to be touched. Fitz did just that, cupping a hand around each one, gently stroking his fingers over the sides and full bottom curve before finding her nipples. He rolled them between his fingertips, teasing them into firm peaks as he watched her, and knowing that he was bringing her such pleasure only caused him to want her more.

Jemma gasped when Fitz first touched her breasts, her soft sounds giving way to outright moans the longer he touched her. His fingertips were so warm she thought he might actually brand her skin and to her shock, Jemma didn’t mind that idea at all. Leo Fitz had made his proverbial mark years ago when they’d first met as competitors; it seemed oddly fitting - and entirely titillating - that he would do so here and now, too. Not wanting to be left behind in that regard, Jemma nipped at his neck, savoring the low groan it pulled from Fitz and quickly running her tongue over the tiny hurt to soothe the little hurt.

She was forced to stop when he began kissing his way down her body though, powerless to do any more than watch as Fitz worked his way lower, lips trailing down her throat, over her collarbones and down to her breasts. He had to catch her when he finally wrapped his lips around her nipple, Jemma's legs going wobbly as a fresh wave of lust washed through her. Fitz’ hands were splayed wide on her waist to support her as she arched her back, offering more of herself to him even as she wound her fingers into his curls to hold him in place.

“Oh  _ fuck _ ,” she moaned when she felt his tongue flick against the sensitive nub, causing both to pucker further as her sex flooded with a fresh wave of arousal. It was ridiculous how quickly and ardently her body had responded to him and they both knew it. Jemma could even see Fitz grinning against her breast, that same cocky little smirk of his that drove her to distraction, and God help her, it only turned her on more.

Fitz eventually hit his knees in front of her, his arms wrapping around her legs just below her arse. Unable to help himself, he palmed her rear, giving it a squeeze as he kissed her low on her belly, just above the elastic band of her panties. He could  _ smell  _ her want - a dark, earthy, hot aroma - a fact that very much made him want to rip the flimsy fabric off her hips and have his way with Simmons then and there. He didn’t think she’d protest, not with the way she’d responded to him or the soft oaths that were dropping from her lips.

Yet something gave him pause as he curled his fingers into the thin bands of cloth that covered Simmons’ hips. He tugged them down the slightest bit as he looked up her body at her and was gratified to see her eyes were on him, pupils blown out with lust as her breathing hitched.

“Can I take these off?”

Fitz whispered his request, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her stomach. Perhaps he wasn’t playing fair but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care about that now. All he wanted was to taste her, to make her come and feel her break apart against his lips and tongue if she’d let him. Fitz stared up at Simmons, silently trying to will her to agree while he simultaneously attempted to ward off his own fear that she'd say no.

Good God, when had Fitz of all people become the kind of man who could make a woman melt just by asking to take her knickers off? And when had she become the kind of woman who would strip down in a colleague's office for a round of mid-afternoon shagging? Those questions flitted through Jemma's mind but never gained any real traction since she was too busy assisting him in getting the cotton scrap over her hips and down her legs, and she never had a chance to revisit that line of questioning.

As soon as she was bare before him, Fitz was on her, his hands back on her hips to steady her as his mouth found her hips, laying suckling kisses there as he inched his way lower between her thighs. Jemma, keyed up as she was and flat out eager to feel his mouth on her properly, threaded her fingers through his curls and tried to direct him where she wanted him.

“ _ Fitz _ ,” she gasped as his tongue traced the delicate crease of her thigh. “Oh, Fitz,  _ please- _ ”

He could feel Simmons’ legs tremble against his shoulders, giving him a deep sense of satisfaction. Part of Fitz was still afraid that he’d wake up soon and realize this entire thing had been one long, bloody fantastic wet dream but he couldn’t worry about that now. Now all he was concerned with was making sure Simmons didn’t lose her balance. He pushed at her gently, urging her to take a few steps back toward the worn leather sofa he kept in his office for his overnight bakes.

She settled herself at the edge, looking just as keen as he felt, and Fitz took another quick moment to thank whatever in the universe had decided he’d get to see Jemma Simmons naked - and touch her no less! - before claiming another heated kiss. It was a sloppy affair, all teeth and eager tongues, until he forced himself to break away. Keeping his eyes locked on Jemma’s, Fitz curled his fingers around her knees and slowly opened her to him.

He could see that her center was slick and swollen, just begging for him to taste her, and so Fitz did. He lowered his mouth to her and gave her a long lick from bottom to top, savoring the musky taste of Jemma Simmons on his tongue.

The first touch of Fitz’ mouth was electric, causing Jemma to gasp and arch into him, wanting more of that sweet, wet heat against her most intimate areas. He lapped at her slowly, teasing his tongue through her folds and around her entrance until she thought she might very well go out of her mind, all the while avoiding her clit. If this slow, drawn out process of eating her out was his idea of revenge, Jemma couldn’t exactly say she minded.

“Fitz,  _ please _ ,” she moaned, voice breaking the slightest bit at the end with her desperation. “Please, I want to- I’m so close, you feel so  _ good _ -”

Watching Simmons squirm beneath him with her chest flushed and nipples pebbled, clearly desperate for release, pulled a groan from deep in Fitz’ chest. To know that he of all people was making her feel that way, that he could make her beg for more, was the most powerful aphrodisiac Fitz had ever known. He redoubled his efforts, finally focusing his attention on her clit. He drew tight circles around that magical little nub with his tongue, priming her briefly before wrapping his lips around her and sucking her into his mouth.

Fitz was rewarded with her crying out sharply, her back bowing up off the leather of the couch in a clear attempt to draw as much sensation as possible. He was happy to oblige her, focusing his attention on her clit even as he carefully worked first one, then two, fingers inside of her. The feeling of her wrapped around his digits, so slick and impossibly hot, sent a hot flush of arousal through him, his cock twitching in response.

Jemma moaned at the intrusion of his fingers and slammed her hips down against his hand, needing more. The feeling of Fitz’ fingers working in and out of her, stretching her just enough to tease what was coming but not enough to truly satisfy her had pushed her to the brink. She wanted him, needed him, and babbled as much as her orgasm finally broke over her, her mind going blank with pleasure as her muscles clenched around his fingers. All she could process for several long moments was the rush as she came and Fitz’ mouth and hands as he coaxed her through it. When she has ridden it out, the last of her pleasure wrung from her body, Jemma collapsed back against the cushions, a blissful smile on her face.

She maintained her grip on him though, her fingers still carding through his curls as her breathing evened out and heartbeat slowed. When Fitz finally pulled back far enough to meet her eyes, his expression was decidedly smug, although with enough good reason that Jemma couldn’t bring herself to chide him. Not after that performance and the way it had left her feeling loose and relaxed from head to toe.

Jemma sat up with him as he drew back onto his heels, her arms loosely draping around Fitz’ neck and her knees oh-so conveniently finding their way to either side of his torso. Feeling bold, she pointedly looked down between them to where his cock was rather obviously tenting the front of his boxers and had to suppress a small gasp. Despite having felt him briefly while they’d been snogging, Jemma hadn’t expected Fitz to be quite so well endowed as the outline she saw promised. The realization made another wave of wanting roll through her and she had to fight the urge to squirm in place as she imagined Fitz inside her.

“Fitz,” she murmured, glancing up at him from beneath her lashes, “it seems you have a, ah, problem.” Jemma ran one hand over him from his shoulder down his chest and along his abdomen to dip her fingers just below the waistband of his boxers. She was pleased to feel how heated his skin was and the way his breathing hitched when her fingers skimmed through the trail of hair that disappeared beneath the bit of elastic. “Is there something you’d like me to do about it?”

Fitz froze momentarily, half stunned by the fact Simmons had her hand down his boxers and was giving him what were clearly her bedroom eyes. It took him a good few seconds before he could formulate what he thought was even a halfway decent response.

“There’s somethin’ I’d like  _ us  _ t’ do about it,” he whispered back, his forehead coming to lean against Simmons’. “Take them off, baby girl, and let’s see what we can get into.”

Apparently that was all Simmons’ needed to hear. Before Fitz knew it, his boxers had been pushed down to around his knees and she’d gotten a hand on him, already starting up a rhythm that had his hips thrusting forward into her palm. He groaned when he felt her squeeze him, unable to keep from imagining how it would feel to have Simmons herself wrapped around his aching cock and had to grab for her wrist to halt her motion.

“Sim- Jemma,” he gasped when her hand slid up and over the head of his cock, causing his hips to rock forward, seeking more from her. “Won’t last long that way.” He felt his cheeks go pink as he admitted that, but Fitz figured if there was ever a time for honesty it, it was now.

Hearing her given name - not her surname or the endearments he used - drop from his lips in that lust-soaked brogue sent another bolt of arousal through Jemma, leaving her nipples tingling and her body aching for him. She automatically spread her knees wider apart and scooted closer to the edge of the sofa, giving Fitz a blatant invitation to have her.

He inched forward toward her on his knees, the head of his cock just brushing against her swollen folds, when he locked eyes with her once more. They were impossibly blue and left Jemma breathless, nearly causing her to miss his question.

“Do we need anythin’? I have a condom-”

She was tempted to tell him no, that they were fine without using one, but she also knew how irresponsible that’d be. Particularly if this was ever only going to be a one-time shag. Feeling regretful, Jemma nodded and watched as Fitz leaned over her leg to find his jeans so he could fish the lone condom out of wallet.

Jemma helped him roll it on, enjoying the way his eyes lit up at the feeling of her hand on him before Fitz’ mouth was on hers once more. It was the most heated kiss they’d shared, both of them nipping at the other, their tongues slicking against each other in a mimic of what their bodies were about to do. She felt as he pushed into her, his cock stretching her so perfectly that Jemma couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. Fitz was hot and heavy inside of her and with the lingering sensitivity from her first orgasm, Jemma was beginning to think she might be able to come again if they both played their cards right.

“Oh,  _ Fitz _ ,” she moaned, this time into his ear as her arms came around his shoulders, pulling their chests closer together. “God, you feel so good. So, so good.” Their position made it difficult but Jemma did her best to thrust her hips down against him to goad him into a rhythm, trusting that the friction of their bodies would bring them both to the result they wanted.

He had worried he wouldn’t last long, not with how worked up he’d been after eating Jemma out, but hearing her moan like that and feeling her shift around his cock put his arousal onto an entirely new level. He gave one almost experimental thrust into her, testing to see what might work for them both, before he had to give up his plan for fear of losing himself too quickly.

She simply felt too good, from her nails biting into his shoulders and her breath ruffling the hair around his ear to the way her sex felt wrapped around him, and Fitz accepted that he couldn’t hold out. He murmured to her, telling Simmons how she felt around him as he lost control and began thrusting into her in earnest, desperately hoping that what he was doing would be enough for her to get there, too.

Jemma had no choice but to cling to Fitz as he found his rhythm, the nearly punishing pace he set threatening to jar her loose if she didn’t. Thankfully she was still sensitive enough and their bodies so well aligned that all it took was a few hard thrusts with Fitz grinding against her clit as he whispered deliciously naughty things into her ear to send her body convulsing into another orgasm. He was close behind her, hilting inside of her as his body shuddered, his chest and shoulders breaking out in gooseflesh as he slipped over the edge.

She held him through it, pressing kisses to his temple and carding her fingers through his sweat-damp curls as she whispered to him. When Fitz turned his head, she caught him in another kiss, this one much slower and sweeter now that their frantic romp was over, and Jemma tried to pour herself into it in the hope that he might just understand how much what they’d done meant to her.

Somehow his heart was racing even more than it had been while they’d had sex, the sweet kisses they were exchanging a seeming promise of what was to come. That they could be more than rivals who sometimes screwed. Part of Fitz warned him to be cautious, reminding them that just because they’d done this didn’t mean Simmons wanted anything more from him. It was that thought that caused him to pull back from her, just enough so he could speak to her.

“Stay right there. I just need t’ bin the condom.” Reaching past her, Fitz snagged the throw blanket he kept on the back of the couch and gently wrapped it around her shoulders. “I’ll be righ’ back.” He gave her his best reassuring smile before getting off his knees, kicking off his boxers, and turning to take care of the condom, although it was difficult to do when he realized Simmons had a clear view of his bum. Torn between hoping she was enjoying it and worrying it wasn’t a nice enough bum to ogle, Fitz rushed through wrapping the spent condom in a tissue and chucking it in the bin before coming back to sit next to her on the sofa.

He immediately noticed the way Simmons had wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, hunching forward a bit as though to guard herself. Something about the pose tugged at Fitz’ heart; while he knew they weren’t quite friends, he had hoped that after what they’d shared she’d feel a little less guarded around him. He reached out a tentative hand to find her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

“Would, ah,” he cleared his throat and tried again. “Do y’ think they’d miss us if we were gone a little longer? I’d like t’ hold y’ a bit. That is if y’ wanted-”

“That sounds perfect.” 

Jemma beamed at him as she unwrapped the blanket from around her shoulders, exposing her body to him once more. She’d been afraid that Fitz would try to shoo her out of his office once they’d finished and was much happier with him awkwardly asking if they could cuddle. She could work with that. “Come here and lie down then.”

She waited for Fitz to arrange himself on his back before tucking into the narrow space left between his side and the back of the sofa and arranging the throw over them both. The pose was intimate, even without the fact that they were still naked and very much pressed together, and Jemma felt her heart skip a beat or two as they settled in. However, it seemed like neither of them could think of anything to say and the silence quickly grew strained, leaving her desperate to say anything to keep them talking.

“So, ‘Jemma,’ hmm?” She looked up at Fitz, eyebrow arched, only to be greeted by a quizzical look. “While we were, ah, in the moment,” she explained delicately, “you used my first name. Never heard you do that before.”

Fitz blushed a bit although he was smiling. Leave it to her to catch that even while in the middle of trying to get him off. Part of him hesitated to explain himself although he supposed there was no reason to at this point, what with them being naked together and cuddling on his office couch.

“I don’t  _ always  _ think of y’ as ‘Simmons,’” he confessed, his shrug jostling her a bit on his shoulder. “I, uh, might think of y’ as Jemma sometimes. Particularly when I was younger and was nursin’ a massive crush on y’.”

“You had a crush on me?” Jemma sat up a bit, pushing herself into position to lean over Fitz’ chest and better look him in the eye. “Wait,  _ had _ ?”

“Don’t be like that, baby girl.” Fitz chuckled and gave her a little squeeze. “I clearly still fancy y’. In case y’ were wonderin’.”

“I liked it, when you called me Jemma. Wouldn’t mind if you called me by my first name more often. I mean, ‘Simmons’ seems a little impersonal now, doesn’t it?”

Fitz nodded his agreement as he brought a hand up to brush a stray bit of hair out of Jemma’s face. He felt his stomach flip pleasantly at the idea of being able to call her by her given name whenever he wanted and grinned.

“Yeah, it does. But please, for the love o’ God, don’t  _ ever  _ call me Leopold. Only my mum calls me that and only when I’m in trouble.”

“Duly noted,” Jemma agreed, eyes serious. “I’ll only call you Leopold when you’re in trouble.”

Fitz’ fingers found her sides then, tickling her in playful retaliation for her comment. They negotiated names that way then breathlessly settled in to enjoy what would be the first of many rounds of pillow talk.

~*~

Around 8 in the morning Fitz came up for air, stepping out of the kitchen and into the main area of his bakery with flour streaked across his cheek and apron to look around. There were plenty of patrons seated throughout the cafe with steaming mugs of coffee or tea before them and breakfasts in the various stages of being consumed. But that wasn’t his main concern. When he spotted her, apron wrapped around her waist and an order pad in hand, Fitz sneaked up behind her, waiting for her to finish taking the orders at her current table.

“Mornin’, Jemma,” he murmured quietly as his hand shamelessly found her arse to give it a light pat.

“Morning, Fitz,” she replied sweetly, turning just enough to beam up at him. “You slipped out early this morning. I missed you.”

“Missed y’, too, but I have t’ work baker’s hours. Y’ know that. And I wanted t’ try that new roll recipe we were talkin’ about for the pub. I thought a few hours o’ quiet this morning t’ figure it out would do me some good.”

Jemma nodded understandingly. As much as she’d hated waking up without him, she did know that Fitz sometimes needed to be alone in the kitchen to work out the kinks in his latest recipe and that in the end it would be a move that paid off for them both.

“How’d they come out? Think they’ll be ready for tonight? Daisy was asking me earlier.”

“I’ll let y’ know in a little bit. They’re finishin’ the final proof and then they’re goin’ in the oven.”

Jemma opened her mouth to say something in response only to be cut off as Elena, their new short order cook, called out one of her table numbers and hit the little bell to let her know the food was ready to go out.

“I’d better get that,” she said with a sigh. “Bobbi and Hunter owe us for covering for them.”

Fitz smiled at Jemma’s expression. It hadn’t been the first time she’d said that, but Fitz couldn’t really begrudge the other couple. Not when he knew that Hunter had wanted to take his girlfriend on vacation in the hopes that a new setting would give him the nerve to ask a life-altering question.

“They’ll pay us back, Jemma. Y’ know that.” Fitz caught her left hand and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss just over the diamond ring she wore on her third finger. “If not immediately, then in a few months when we’re on holiday ourselves.”

At the mention of their upcoming honeymoon, Jemma pressed up onto her toes to plant a quick kiss on Fitz’ cheek. It may not have been professional, but who would dare challenge the boss?

“All right, back to work,” she told them both, although there was no heat in her tone as she pushed Fitz back toward the kitchen. “I have tables to wait on and you have bread and cookies and cakes to make. I’ll see you at 2?”

“Sounds perfect,” Fitz replied as he nodded. “Just come back before y’ head over t’ the pub. I’ll have lunch waitin’.” 

Jemma gave him one more radiant smile and wiggled her fingers at him before turning back to her work. For his part, Fitz stole another moment to watch Jemma before going back to work himself, amazed that he was lucky enough to have her in his life and beyond eager to see what kinds of bliss the next years would bring.


End file.
